


make my heart shake, bend and break (but i can't turn away).

by paleromantic



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, I love them so much, Kissing, M/M, Non-Binary Jean Prouvaire, Pining, artist!AU, enjolras and grantaire are in love, enjolras is affectionate on main, grantaire is a disaster, jehan and grantaire are besties and thats that on that, love potion but not really, modern witch! jehan, take this mess I'm v proud of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 18:43:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17688842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paleromantic/pseuds/paleromantic
Summary: “Bullshit.” Grantaire picked up the controller and scrolled through the selection screen, starting the game up. “He probably went home and wrote in his little diary that it was the best day of his life.”There was silence for a couple of seconds, and an awkward one at that. Then, Jehan pushed their hair back and levelled Grantaire with a worried look. “R, you don’t honestly think that Enjolras hates you. Right?”





	make my heart shake, bend and break (but i can't turn away).

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mellsibeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellsibeth/gifts).



> Hello! This took me a very long time to finish, I really hope that y'all like it!
> 
> (Enjolras and Jehan had a very long talk on the way to Grantaire's apartment, don't worry)

It was a truth universally acknowledged that Grantaire was kind of a mess.

Therefore, it wasn’t a surprise to anyone involved when he stumbled late into class wearing a two-day old shirt and jeans with paint smeared all over the thighs. Jehan looked up from the book they were reading and offered him a smile.

“Morning, R!”

“Mornin’ J. What’s my tarot today?”

Jehan grinned and then held out their smaller, more travel friendly deck to him and let him pick a card. Grantaire flipped it over and held it up to them when he was finished.

“The star?” Jehan hummed and then took the card back, sliding it back into the deck. “Hope, renewed excitement for life. Even though it might not be obvious, remember that you have everything you need in life to succeed, you just need the courage to go for what you want.”

Grantaire groaned and stole the coffee off their desk, choking down a few swallows of the sickeningly sweet concoction that Jehan seemed to think was coffee. “That’s pretty fucking ironic, given the circumstances. Don’t you think?” He replied, sinking into his seat and pulling out his sketchbook while the teacher moved on to the most philosophically defensible definition of art- Grantaire thought it was bullshit, really. Art was whatever the artist wanted it to be and fuck anyone who said otherwise.

Jehan snorted. “Maybe if you stepped out of your own way for once, you’d realise that it isn’t, really.”

Grantaire chose not to grace that with a response, tapping the end of his pencil to his lips before bringing it down to the paper and glancing over at Jehan, who was still completely engrossed in the book they were reading; Descartes’ meditations by the looks of it. Grantaire rolled his eyes and began to sketch, quickly mapping out their features and moving on to frame their face with hair, falling out of the bun they usually pulled it into to pull it back out of their face. By the time the class was over and the teacher had finished thoroughly dismantling Arthur C. Danto’s ‘aboutness’ definition of art- not as well as Grantaire might have, if he could have been bothered to put up his hand- he had finished a rough sketch of Jehan bent over their book, a look of concentration on their face as they read.

“Prouvaire, come on. Class is over.”

Jehan startled and looked up, turning pink. “Oh, I didn’t notice.”

“Yeah, figured.” Grantaire tore the drawing out of his notebook and held it out to them. Jehan beamed at it before tucking it into his book in place of a bookmark. “What do you have now?”

Jehan groaned. “My philosophy of religion lecturer is in love with Thomas Aquinas, so we’re still going over his defences for the existence of a god. Might just skip, honestly.”

“Bossuet got the new Red Dead, if you wanna come over and play that instead?” Grantaire shoved his book into his bag and put it back on his back, taking out his phone to check it. Just a text from Musichetta, telling him that they were out of milk. “Unless you’re busy.”

Jehan stuck the book under their arm then put their things back into their bag before humming. “I can spare a couple of hours, we haven’t seen each other in a while.”

They hadn’t, that was true. Grantaire, in all of his drunken wisdom, had gone swimming and walked home in his wet clothes resulting in one of the worst colds probably known to man. He might have been embellishing slightly, but it sure had _felt_ that way. He hadn’t been able to go to meetings or anything either, just the odd text here and there and reassurances from Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta to let everyone know that he was still alive. He hadn’t thought that anyone had actually noticed his absence though- the knowledge of that sat warm and heavy in his chest. He reached out and ruffled Jehan’s hair, then grinned.

“C’mon then, we’ll have plenty of time to catch up over a couple of beers and Bossuet’s PlayStation. You can even check on your plants.”

Jehan had started a little herb and flower garden of sorts on one of Grantaire’s windowsills, with the explanation that the direct sunlight was better at his than in Jehan’s apartment on the other side of town. Grantaire didn’t argue- he even remembered to water them sometimes. Jehan came over to cut pieces off them sometimes, and they used them to make potions and little mesh bags that they snuck into Grantaire’s backpack sometimes, making it smell nice and apparently helping with his worse moods. He wasn’t sure that it worked exactly, but it seemed to make Jehan happy.

The walk to his shared apartment was short, one of the perks of living with people who worked on campus. He picked up milk on the way there, putting it into the fridge before offering Jehan a beer or one of their weird herbal teas that Grantaire had taken to keeping stocked up in case they called over. When they got inside, Jehan went over to the windowsill to check in on his plants, watering the ones that needed it and murmuring to them all the while. Grantaire took that opportunity to change into a slightly fresher shirt and boot up the PlayStation before sitting on the couch with a beer of his own. “So, what’d I miss?”

“The garden is coming in nicely.” Jehan murmured, and then looked up at Grantaire happily. “Everyone was pretty worried about you until JBM told us that you just had a cold- we figured that Joly could handle whatever it was, anyway. Meeting was quiet without you, though, we’ll be glad to have you back.”

Grantaire laughed and raised the beer to his lips. “Count your blessings, Prouvaire.”

Jehan rolled their eyes. “Even Enjolras seemed pretty annoyed at the silence, it’s like he was waiting for someone to argue with him.”

“Bullshit.” Grantaire picked up the controller and scrolled through the selection screen, starting the game up. “He probably went home and wrote in his little diary that it was the best day of his life.”

There was silence for a couple of seconds, and an awkward one at that. Then, Jehan pushed their hair back and levelled Grantaire with a worried look. “R, you don’t honestly think that Enjolras hates you. Right?”

Grantaire took another sip of beer and laughed again, a much more bitter sound than he intended. “Haven’t you been listening to him? My _existence_ pisses him off.”

Jehan reached over and took a controller before retying their hair up into another messy bun, their expression stuck somewhere between the look that they had when they were reading, and the look they had when they caught Grantaire looking at Enjolras one too many times. “You’re an idiot, R.”

Grantaire snorted. “I’ve been told.”

“Enjolras is your _friend_. Didn’t he text you?”

He had texted actually, a curt _‘Get well soon, see you next week.’_ that Grantaire had stared at for _hours_ before replying with an equally curt _‘thanks’_ that Enjolras had left on read.

“Yeah, but that was just because you guys were worried about me. Why else would he care? It’s not like he genuinely considers me as a friend, even if I consider him one.”

Jehan’s expression was grim, and they shook their head. “Oh, R.”

“Whatever you’re about to say, Éponine’s already said it.” He and her had had a very long discussion on Grantaire not getting his hopes up after Enjolras had texted him. He wasn’t sure if he could handle the same talk from Jehan, even if Jehan would say it in much nicer words than Éponine had.

“I really doubt she has.” Jehan patted Grantaire’s knee with a hand, and then put both hands back on their controller, frowning at the screen. “I do think you should talk to him, though.”

“About what? His stance on Hobbes’ ideas about absolute monarchy? He’d end up hating me more than he already does, J.”

“If you say so, R.” Jehan seemed to accept defeat for the most part then, although Grantaire didn’t really trust the calculating look in their eyes. Jehan could be dangerously single-minded when they decided to be, and Grantaire was more than a little scared of them sometimes. Hopefully they would let the subject drop and leave Grantaire to his own pointless crush and the inevitable heartbreak that came along with it. That didn’t seem likely though, knowing them.

“Hey,” Grantaire tucked a leg up under him. “How’s it going with that guy- Montparnasse, right?”

Jehan raised an eyebrow, but the blush that darkened their cheeks gave it away. “He asked me out again tonight.”

“Damn, twice in one week? Things are getting serious, Jehan Prouvaire.”

Jehan swatted him in the face with a hand, and then crossed their arms. “Shut up.”

“Forgive a man for living vicariously through his friends, would you?” Grantaire winked and then stole the notebook from his friend’s hands, flipping it open to the last page. “Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, enwrought with golden and silver light-"

Jehan made an indignant noise and made a grab for the book, slamming it closed. "You wouldn't need to live vicariously if you just-"

Grantaire rolled his eyes. "What, tell Enjolras that I'm in love with him? I'd have to move _country_."

Jehan groaned. "I told you-"

"You never know if you don't try, I know." Grantaire snorted. "But honestly, he barely even looks at me."

Jehan worked their jaw, their gaze wandering over to their herbs before they hummed. "You just need to believe in yourself, R."

"Sorry, I'm fresh out of self-confidence. New shipment never."

Grantaire focused on the television again after that, and it seemed to be the end of the conversation. Soon after it had gotten dark, Jehan’s phone went off and they blushed.

“Montparnasse is outside, I have to go.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes and leaned into the hug that Jehan would no doubt give him, before ruffling their hair. “Get going, tell him I said hey.”

“Will do!” Jehan grabbed their bag and phone, standing up. “See you at the meeting?”

“See you at the meeting.” Grantaire confirmed with a nod, and watched as Jehan left, before turning back to turn off the PlayStation. When he went to grab Jehan’s controller to pack it away, his hand bumped against the hard cover of their notebook, and he rolled his eyes. Jehan would no doubt miss it, seeing as he spent most of his time writing, so Grantaire moved to put it into his bag, putting it between his own books.

He’d just drop it to the bookshop they worked at sometime during the week, surely they’d last a couple days without it.

********************

_Breakfast at the Musain, none of us have classes before 11._

Grantaire huffed and wiped his phone screen with a hand, typing back a quick response. He hated saying no to Combferre, but he was able to manage it most of the time. Unlike someone else, unfortunately.

_Can’t, working late._

Combferre didn’t reply right away- Grantaire though that he had almost gotten away with it before his phone buzzed again, with a message from Enjolras this time.

_I’d really appreciate it if you came to talk with us tomorrow. We can reschedule to later in the day, if that suits. – E_

Fuck.

Grantaire pinched the bridge of his nose, and then stared at the phone screen again. There was only one response he could give, really.

_no, eight is fine. i’ll be there, but you owe me a coffee apollo._

Enjolras texted back immediately- the idea that he had been waiting for Grantaire’s response made his heart hurt. The little Éponine that lived in his head yelled at him for it, telling him about the importance of being realistic. Enjolras probably just needed some flyer designs, that was all.

_Fantastic, see you there. -E_

Grantaire groaned, and then closed his sketchbook, putting it down. He'd need to go to sleep earlier than usual, if he was going to be getting up earlier to walk to the Musain all the way over on the other side of town. He even showered beforehand and grabbed Jehan’s notebook to return.

Most of the group were there before him, as expected, but the fact that he wasn’t late at least was a pleasant surprise. Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta knew he would be there so they just waved to him from the couch that they were all crushed together on, allowing Bahorel and Feuilly to sweep him up for hugs that left Grantaire’s ribs aching a little, but in a good way.

“You can put me down Bahorel, I’m fine.” He laughed and then straightened his hoodie when the man set him down. “Missed you guys.”

“Aww, did you hear that? He missed me!”

“Pretty sure he said he missed all of us, ‘Rel.” Jehan’s voice was soft, and Grantaire turned to raise an eyebrow at them. “Hey R, have you got my notebook?”

Grantaire tugged it out of his backpack and held it out for them to take. “Your emo love poetry is safe, don’t worry.”

Jehan went pink, and then took the pencil from behind their ear and pulled Grantaire to an empty seat. They seemed kind of nervous, but Grantaire just attributed that to them staying overnight with their boyfriend for the first time. “My poetry isn’t all that different to your emo love sketchbook, so cut it out.”

That shut Grantaire up pretty quickly, and they sat in reasonably comfortable silence until Enjolras and Combferre started to get ready to begin the meeting. Jehan stood up while they set up their usual desk layout, offering to get coffee for everyone. Grantaire ordered his usual black coffee, and then tucked his knee up under his chin, letting his eyes follow Enjolras as he gathered his papers. They were no doubt going to be talking about the rally for student accommodation that they had been planning for weeks, petitioning the college to allocate more funding to helping students, both national and international, to find accommodation during the school year, and demanding for the city council to establish renter’s rights for the students who were stuck in digs. Grantaire agreed for the most part- he’d had his fair share of shitty landlords. Not that he’d tell Enjolras that, of course. Perish the thought of him actually _contributing_ to a meeting.

“Alright, guys.” Combferre thumbed through the sheets in his hand and then looked up to address them properly. “We need to organise transport for this Saturday if we all want to get to the rally on time.”

Bahorel offered his car, as did Cosette. Jehan arrived back to the group as they were discussing the logistics of that, laden with a tray of different cups of coffee. Grantaire reached for his, just as Enjolras walked over to retrieve his, as well as Courfeyrac’s and Combferre’s.

Grantaire went to pick up one of the black coffees, and Jehan smacked his hand away. “No, that one is for Enjolras.”

They both gave Jehan a weird look at that, and Grantaire shook his head before picking up the same cup. “We have the same order, it doesn’t matter.”

Jehan had a divet between their eyebrows then, and they looked as if they wanted to take the mug off of him. “But- But that one is Enjolras’s.”

Enjolras picked up other coffee and took a sip. “Jehan, it’s fine.”

Grantaire took his own, and with a slightly worried expression, Jehan finally moved on to give the others their coffee before sinking back into their seat beside Grantaire and taking out their phone, texting quickly.

“Is everything alright?” Grantaire raised an eyebrow, and Jehan nodded distractedly.

“Yeah. Éponine says hi, by the way.”

“She could have said that this morning, when she broke into my apartment to steal more of my hoodies.”

Jehan seemingly passed along the message, and then grinned at him. “She said that she acknowledges that, and she’ll keep it in mind. Maybe.”

“How considerate of her. What was all that about, though? With the coffee?”

Jehan winced. “I… nothing?”

Grantaire blinked, and then glanced at Jehan’s bag, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. “What did you put in the coffee, Jehan.”

They turned slightly red. “In my defence, I tried not to let him drink it.”

“What did you _do_.” Grantaire looked over at Enjolras, who had nearly finished his cup, and had a slightly puzzled expression plastered on his face.

“I may have… put something to make you more confident in your feelings? So that you’d make a move?”

“You put a-” Grantaire’s voice was shrill, and he lowered it when it garnered looks from the people around them. “You put a fucking love potion in Enjolras’s coffee? What the _fuck_ , J”

Jehan grimaced. “Maybe it won’t have too much of an effect?”

“Yeah, as if he doesn’t love his friends enough already. He might fucking propose to Combferre.”

Jehan worried their lip between their teeth and frowned. “I...”

“You really shouldn’t have done that, J- I’m perfectly happy to just be around, I don’t need a push. It’s not like he likes me back, you know?”

“You don’t know that.” Jehan huffed. “You always say that like you know it, and you _don’t_.”

“I fucking do, okay? I know.” Grantaire swallowed, and then got up, grabbing his bag and moving over to sit with Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta. They moved over easily to allow space for him, but he didn’t miss the way that Jehan seemed to shrink in on themselves now that they were sitting alone. At the top of the room, Combferre cleared his throat again and readjusted his hearing aid.

“So, all in favour of us splitting up between Bahorel and Cosette’s cars?”

Jehan frowned, and then raised their voice slightly. “Grantaire has a van, he could take all of us.”

Grantaire blinked, looking up. “Oh, uh. Yeah, I could take all of us if no one is opposed to a little lap sitting.”

Courfeyrac laughed, and then winked at Combferre. “Everyone loves a little lap sitting, R.”

Grantaire made a face. “Okay, too much Courf. But yeah, once I get gas I can probably fit everyone.”

Combferre nodded and gave him an approving look, but it was Enjolras who spoke.

“Thank you, Grantaire.”

Grantaire stopped, and then felt his face heat up. He scratched his nails against his palm and then rubbed his nose. “Yeah, don’t mention it.”

Enjolras shook his head, and pulled his hair back. Grantaire had to look away as his collarbones and the column of his neck came into view, but he looked back almost as soon as the man started to speak. He usually did. “No, really. It’s very kind of you, offering your van.”

By the looks of it, everyone had noticed the change in Enjolras’s disposition. Combferre had his head tilted, and Courfeyrac raised his eyebrows slightly before leaning in to whisper in his boyfriend’s ear. Grantaire couldn’t really do anything but redden under the praise.

“Any of the rest of you would do the same, for the group.”

Grantaire drank his coffee and then sat back, and Enjolras mercifully dropped the subject. He didn’t really pay attention after that, still reeling from Enjolras _thanking him_ calling him _kind_.

The rest of the meeting passed pretty quickly, mostly just ironing out the details for the following weekend, figuring out who would be bringing what, where they would be staying after. Grantaire didn’t really care- Jehan would be staying at his, probably, and they’d be taking his van- he’d have to clean it out during the week then. He wasn’t sure that the group would appreciate the beer cans, the old paint cans and the spare clothes that he usually kept in there, and it was only taking up space in the van anyway.

When Combferre called the meeting to a close, Grantaire was the first on his feet, as per usual. He wanted to get home- he had to make sure that he had some actual food in the house, so that he wouldn’t have to order takeout. He fist-bumped Bahorel, allowing Musichetta and Bossuet to pull him into a hug and shooting finger guns at Joly before he made for the door finally.

He didn’t get far, though, before a hand on his arm stopped him from leaving.

“Jehan, I have to-” Grantaire looked back, and then fell silent. Enjolras looked slightly flushed, his jacket messy from where he had seemingly put it back on in a rush.

“Are you leaving, Grantaire?”

Grantaire blinked, and then shrugged the man’s hand off his arm. “Some of us have things to do, you know.”

 “Oh. Can’t you stay?”

“You _want_ me to stay?”

“Of course I want you to stay- you’re our friend!” Enjolras smiled, and Grantaire had to stop himself from making a pained noise- this really wasn’t fair.

Courfeyrac, with all the mercy of a saint, chose that moment to step in, smiling easily and bumping up against Enjolras’s shoulder. “Leaving so soon, R?”

Grantaire swallowed, glancing at Enjolras quickly before sighing. “I guess I can stay for another while.”

Enjolras’s smile widened, and he reached out to grab Grantaire by the hand, pulling him back into the room. Grantaire shot a panicked look at Courfeyrac, who raised an eyebrow at him, but didn’t stop it from happening. Traitorous bastard.

“Grantaire is staying!” Enjolras sounded smug, and Grantaire would have said something, if he wasn’t so distracted by how the man hadn’t dropped his hand. Carefully, he pulled his hand out of the man’s grip and then smiled at the others, who seemed happy that he was staying too.

“I’m sure I can spare an hour or two, for you guys.” Bahorel clapped him on the back, and he rolled his eyes. “You losers need me to liven up your party, anyways.”

Since it was still the middle of the day, there wasn’t any alcohol involved. Grantaire mourned its absence, since alcohol was exactly what he needed to get through the next two hours of Enjolras looking at him like that. He was losing his mind, he was pretty sure. He should have just gone home when he had the chance, but it was too late to leave now without making a scene.

Resigning himself to this strange turn of fate, Grantaire went back over to the couch where Jehan was sitting, texting on their phone and staying quiet for the most part. Grantaire almost felt bad about it, but every time he looked at Enjolras he got pissed off all over again. Nevertheless, he sat down and pulled his sketchbook out of his bag, shoving his hand back in to retrieve a pencil stub from the bottom. They sat together in mostly silence after that, letting the others talk and share coffee around them, looking up to answer whenever anyone spoke to them but otherwise just keeping to themselves.

Grantaire glanced up from his paper every couple of seconds, quickly capturing the scene in front of him in a sketch before going back in to darken the lines, adding details. Combferre’s glasses, the curls in Cosette’s hair, the stickers on Joly’s cane. He loved drawing his friends, and he did it often, but there was something to be said about the rush that drawing Enjolras gave him, smiling and flushed with energy. He had drawn the man hundreds of ways- stern and serious, righteous and angry, quiet and pensive- but this Enjolras was _radiant_.

He had just finished adding the finishing details to his sketch- he could colour it when he got home- when he saw Enjolras coming over to the couch.

“Grantaire! What are you drawing?”

He slammed his sketchbook closed. “Enjolras! Just- just sketching, you know? Practicing.”

Enjolras sighed, and then smiled. Grantaire would have pulled the moon down for that smile, if he could. “You’re an amazing artist, you know.”

Grantaire went red. “I- What? You never really liked my art.”

Enjolras widened his eyes, and then frowned. “No, I always enjoyed your art. I bought that painting at your first exhibition, remember?”

Grantaire did remember. It had been abstract, all lonely blues and triumphant reds set against each other, more of a love letter than anything Grantaire could write. And Enjolras had _bought_ it. It was in his apartment.

“You wanted to support me as part of the group, Apollo. Don’t worry, you don’t need to spare my feelings.”

Jehan rolled their eyes and went back to reading, propping their feet up on the couch. Enjolras, though, started to look upset.

“You really think that I don’t appreciate your art? Grantaire, I _love_ your art, I love-”

Grantaire cut him off by standing up, putting his sketchbook under his arm and going for the door. “I need to go. See you guys later.”

He ignored Enjolras’s protests, Jehan’s cry of his name, and let the door of the Musain shut with a chime behind him.

********************

_[From Enjolras]_

_Grantaire, please, we need to talk._

_[From Jehan]_

_R, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to upset you_

_[From Enjolras]_

_Grantaire I’m coming over to talk to you, Eponine said you were at home_

_[From Jehan]_

_Grantaire pick up your phone!!!!_

_[From Enjolras]_

_R? Please let me in._

_[From Jehan]_

_R I REALLY NEED TO TELL YOU SOMETHING_

 

Grantaire grimaced and unlocked his phone, scrolling through the messages before opening a new message.

_[To Jehan and Enjolras]_

_Leave me alone. I’m fine._

 

He locked it again and threw it to the side, before wincing as someone started too loudly knock on the door to his shitty apartment.

“Grantaire! Please let me in, I need to talk to you.” Enjolras sounded distressed- probably an effect of that fucking potion- and Grantaire grimaced and brought the bottle of beer he was holding to his lips. It was weak as fuck, and tasted like ass, but it was all that he had lying around that was stronger than tap water. He’d have to add it to his shopping list, or maybe Eponine’s.

“R! Answer your fucking door!” Jehan, that time. Huh. Grantaire tipped the rest of the contents of the bottle into his mouth and then reached for another on, clearing his throat.

“Fuck off, both of you.”

He heard a shuffle, and then a squawk.

“Jehan, since when could you pick locks!?” Another shuffle, and then a distinctly metallic sound.

“Monty taught me, isn’t it cool?”

Grantaire was out of his seat by the time the door swung open, and he grimaced as Enjolras burst in, both looking sweaty and annoyed.

“What the fuck?” Grantaire wiped his face and then glared at them. “You just _broke into my apartment._ ”

“You weren’t answering your texts.” Enjolras sounded indignant, and- yeah, he was probably back to normal then. “We were _worried_.”

Grantaire gestured to himself. “Well I’m fine, see? All in one piece.”

Jehan cleared their throat. “Can I talk to you, R?”

“You have a mouth, J.”

“ _Alone_.”

Grantaire allowed Jehan to drag him to another room, and as soon as they were out of earshot Jehan rounded on him, hands on their hips.

“What is it?” Grantaire went to take another sip of beer, and then groaned when Jehan stopped him. “Fuck off.”

“That wasn’t a love potion, R.”

Grantaire blinked, and then frowned. “What?”

“It. Wasn’t. A love potion. I fucked it up.” Jehan looked positively gleeful at the development- Grantaire had no idea where they were going with this. “It was a _truth serum._ ”

“A truth serum.” Grantaire raised an eyebrow. “So Enjolras-”

“Is madly in love with you? Yep.” Jehan popped the ‘p’ and then grinned. “You both are disgusting.”

“Don’t even joke about that shit, J.” Grantaire snapped, and then sighed. “It’s a little cruel to get my hopes up, don’t you think?”

Jehan groaned. “Grantaire, listen-”

“No. _No_ , Jehan. I’ll listen when Enjolras tells me himself, okay? Otherwise, I’m perfectly fucking happy to just go to the stupid meetings and be pathetically in love with him. Understood?”

Jehan swallowed, and then they smiled slightly before nodding. “Understood.”

Grantaire nodded and then turned in place to leave, walking directly into Enjolras, who had been standing in the doorway, eyes wide. Grantaire stepped back, and then swallowed.

“Apollo-”

Enjolras cut him off. “You’re in love with me?”

Jehan cleared their throat, and then squeezed around them. “I’m just going to… go…”

Grantaire heard them leave through the main room, and then swallowed. There wasn’t much of a point in hiding anything now. “Yeah. Yeah, Enjolras, I am.”

Enjolras reached out and took the bottle out of Grantaire’s hand, putting it down for him. “That’s good, then.”

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”

Enjolras huffed a laugh- Grantaire wanted to bottle the sound, to keep it with him forever. “I mean, yeah. I’ve liked you for over a year, after all- Combferre was threatening to ruin my jacket if I didn’t talk to you about it.”

Grantaire’s heart was racing, and he reached out to grab a handful of the fabric of Enjolras’s jacket. Well worn and soft, the red fabric was something that Grantaire associated deeply with the man- the idea that someone would willingly destroy it was blasphemous. “Well. Are you talking to me about it?”

Enjolras smiled, making Grantaire’s heart rate speed up. “I guess I am. My jacket is safe.”

“ _Very_ safe. You- This is for real? I really hope I’m not dreaming.”

Enjolras laughed, and then tilted Grantaire’s face up. “Can I kiss you?”

“Not really convincing me there, Apollo.” Grantaire shook his head, and then bit his lip. “Yes, though.”

Enjolras leaned down, pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss. When he pulled away, Grantaire leaned up for another one, anchoring one of his hands in the tangle of blond hair that he could reach. Enjolras laughed into it, and Grantaire felt something in his chest settle.

“Now, can I see your sketchbook?” Enjolras licked his lips, and then dropped a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Grantaire brought his hand down to take Enjolras’s, interlocking their fingers together. “Of course you can.”

Enjolras followed him out into his main room, a bright smile plastered on his face. Grantaire would start wars to keep that smile there, if he needed to, but he supposed that flipping his sketchbook open and grabbing his watercolours would be enough for now.

They had time.


End file.
